Voldemort's Help
by Beautiful T Jakson
Summary: Fifth Year. When Harry acts as Voldemort's mood aerial, what happens when he plays host to some unexpected feelings towards Hermione? My first fic, so be gentle. Rated T to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

Hello, I'm NoahWaters (all one word, please) and this is my first fanfic, so please be gentle with your criticisms. This is H/Hr and takes place in late fifth year. This is sort of a 'what if' about Harry being Voldemort's "mood aerial" as JK so succinctly puts it. This may be a two-shot, possibly three. I don't know, I'm winging it. Anyway, enjoy!

Oh, right. Disclaimer. ahem Just about everything is JK's. The only the thing that's mine is the situation that I put poor Harry in.

Chapter One: Peculiar Feelings from the Dark Lord

"What's wrong, Harry?" Hermione's concerned voice said softly. Harry opened his eyes. He had had them screwed shut at the pain that was shooting through his scar, accompanied by a twinge of happiness. Again, a small taste of the current disposition of Lord Voldemort. They were getting much more frequent nowadays, courtesy of Occlumency lessons with Snape, the most recent of which just ended an hour ago. He was now in the library with Hermione, working on a Potions essay, ironically enough. Ron was at Quidditch practice.

"Nothing's wrong, Hermione," Harry lied, perhaps a little too quickly.

"You're lying to me Harry," Hermione said simply. "Is it your scar again?"

"Yeah," Harry admitted. "Another Voldemort mood swing."

"Ooh, what's he feeling now?" said Ron's unmistakable voice from behind Harry. He turned and saw Ron standing sopping wet, having just returned from practice. "Wait, let me guess. Is he pissed about something? That seems about right for You-Know-Who."

"Ron!" Hermione scolded, only to be shushed by Madam Pince. She continued in an angry hiss. "It's not a game! This is serious." She turned to Harry. "Harry, you should go to Dumbledore—"

"No." Harry said sharply. "It's nothing." This was why he didn't want to tell Hermione in the first place. She would tell him to go to the headmaster and the last thing he wanted to do was go see Dumbledore after having been cold-shouldered by him for nearly a year.

"Okay, annoyance?" Ron guessed, oblivious to Harry and Hermione's conversation, and merely trying to guess at whatever mood Voldemort was in.

"Ron, SHUT UP!" Hermione yelled, summoning Madam Pince to kick all three of them out of the library.

"I will not have you disturbing students who are actually _trying _to work!" she scolded as she ushered them from the library. Hermione and Ron bickered the whole way to dinner, but Harry was too distracted to even pay attention. He was trying to decipher the feeling he had gotten from Voldemort. It had been happy, he knew that, but it was a strange, different kind of happiness than sadistic pleasure from a no doubt evil plot. It was…different. He glanced out the window. Rain was falling in sheets outside on the already sopping grounds. He wondered just how much water the soil could hold. It was probably enchanted somehow to hold an endless amount. Suddenly, his scar began searing again and he stopped, leaning against the wall and screwing his eyes shut. He was overcome with one of the most peculiar feelings he or Voldemort had ever felt so far.

"Harry!" Hermione's voice said from right in front of him. "Are you okay? Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?"

Harry opened his eyes and met Hermione's eyes cinnamon-brown eyes, now full of concern, and felt a whole lot of his blood head south of the border. He wanted nothing more than to grab Hermione by the shoulders and snog her senseless right in the middle of the hallway.

_Wait, what the hell am I thinking?_ Harry told himself. These feelings had come out of nowhere.

"I'm fine Hermione," he said, standing up and brushing her aside. "Just…need to rest. I'll be in the common room."

"What about dinner?" Ron asked, his mind on the one thing that seemed to ever matter to him.

"Not hungry!" Harry called, already halfway to a secret passage he knew led to the Fat Lady's portrait. He whipped aside a tapestry and began climbing a flight of stairs, his mind reeling.

"What in the name of Merlin was that?" he muttered to himself. He had honestly felt like he wanted to shag Hermione right there. Not only were these feelings unusual for him (Merlin forbid Harry Potter should ever be so forward) but this was Hermione! She was one if his best friends. It would be so…awkward. He tried to think about what could have prompted such a drastic mood swing. His mind sprang instantly to Voldemort. But why would the Dark Lord be feeling such lustful feelings? And why did they have to come at such an inconvenient time? Now he couldn't stop thinking about Hermione in ways no friend should think about someone.

"Something on your mind?" the Fat Lady asked as Harry approached her portrait.

"You have no idea," Harry replied. "_Mimbulus mimbletonia._"

The Fat Lady swung forward, and Harry climbed through, walking over to his favorite armchair by the fire. He dropped his school bag nearby and decided to work on his Potions essay. Yeah, Potions and Snape would be the perfect things to get his mind off of Hermione and his…urges. He sat down, got out his quill and ink and his half-finished essay, pulled a table to him, and set to work. Half an hour later he had succeeded in dripping every last drop of ink from his quill onto the parchment, creating a very large and interestingly shaped inkblot. He got out his wand and muttered a spell that Hermione had taught him for just such an occasion. Running his wand over the parchment to siphon away the ink, his thoughts drifted back to Hermione (damn it) and he found himself thinking about her eyes. She really did have beautiful eyes. They were so brown and bright and showed so much emotion—

"No!" he scolded himself, putting his wand away. He heard a gasp and saw two second-years sitting in a corner, whispering to each other. _Great_, he thought. _Now people are gonna say Crazy Potter is talking to himself. Just what I need. _He let his head drop to the table and laid there for about five minutes before he heard an angelic voice.

"Harry?"

Harry sat up rather fast and met Hermione's eyes. He quickly looked away before he could get totally entranced by them.

"Harry, is something wrong?" Hermione asked, sitting down on the arm of his chair and crossing one leg over the other. Her school skirt rode up her leg a little and it was very near Harry. He quickly tore his eyes away from this and looked up at her.

"Everything's fine, Hermione," Harry said, trying his best to keep his voice even. When did Hermione start smelling so good? Like a mixture of cinnamon and vanilla.

"You seemed pretty shaken back in the hallway," Hermione said, placing a hand on his forehead to check for a fever. Harry jumped at the contact and stood up. "What is wrong with you today?"

"Nothing," Harry said, looking anywhere but Hermione, lest he be trapped by those eyes. "I think I'm gonna turn in."

"It's only eight o'clock," Hermione said, her brow furrowed in suspicion.

"I'm really tired," Harry lied, rushing to the sanctity of the boy's dormitories and his four-poster. He decided he could use a shower before bed and climbed in, turning the water on cold to calm his libido. He put on his pajama pants and a tank top and climbed into bed. His dreams were filled with visions of Hermione and he kept feeling that same lustful feeling that he had felt in his last encounter with Voldemort's mood.

Harry awoke the next morning feeling rested and slightly bittersweet about the fact that at least he wasn't dreaming of the Department of Mysteries or the graveyard. Of course, now he wouldn't be able to look Hermione in the eyes without turning crimson. He climbed out of bed and took another cold shower, thought he didn't really need to cleanse himself (not physically, anyway). The rest of his dorm mates were taking advantage of the fact that it was Saturday and sleeping in. Harry was always an early riser thanks to the Dursley's insistence that he be the one to make breakfast on Saturday morning. At the thought of breakfast, his stomach made a very interesting noise. He realized he hadn't eaten since lunch the previous day and decided to head to the Great Hall for a bite.

"Hey, Harry," Ginny greeted Harry as he sat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall about ten minutes later.

"Hey, Ginny," Harry said, sitting across from her. He reached for some eggs and hashed browns (A/N: are they called that in Britain?) and piled them on his plate distractedly, his mind elsewhere.

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked him as Harry brought a forkful of eggs to his mouth and missed by about three inches. "Something on your mind?"

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, actually getting the fork in his mouth this time.

"You're the youngest Seeker in a century and you can't even hit your mouth with your fork on the first try today," Ginny said. "Something's up."

"First of all, _you're_ the Seeker now," Harry said, taking another bite of egg, "and second, nothing's wrong." At that moment, Harry looked up and nearly choked on his food. Hermione had walked in (damn her for being an early bird) and, though Harry knew she had not changed since yesterday, he couldn't help but stare at her.

"Ohh," Ginny's voice snapped him out of his reverie. "I think I understand it, now. Finally caught on, have you?"

"Caught on to what?" Harry asked, his eyes following Hermione's progress.

"The fact that Hermione is a girl," Ginny said, smirking in a not un-Malfoy-like way. "Took you long enough."

At that moment it all clicked into place for Harry. How had he not seen it? Hermione was a girl! Of the female persuasion! He watched her as she spotted Harry and Ginny (Harry looked away as their eyes met) and made her way over to them. Harry panicked. He had to get out of there. If he stayed, he would definitely just make a fool of himself (or end up trying something that would get him hexed). Hermione sat next to him and his nostrils were assaulted by that intoxicating scent of vanilla and cinnamon again. What _was_ that shampoo? Resisting the urge to grab a handful of Hermione's hair and sniff it (she probably wouldn't like that) he shook himself back to reality.

"Harry?" Hermione asked. "What's wrong?"

"Uh," Harry stammered. "I just remembered I haven't finished my…Potions essay. Better go do that, don't want to put it off. Bye."

With that he rushed off, leaving a bewildered Hermione and a hysterical Ginny.

Well, what do you think? Harry's had an epiphany with some help from Ginny and Hermione's freakin' confused! Stay tuned for chapter two in which Harry is confronted by Ron (though not in the violent, jealous way). Sorry if the ending is a little abrupt, but is was the best place I could find.

Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

Hello, again. Come on, NO REVIEWS on my last chapter? Am I being shunned? Not readyfor new blood or something? Well, I'll post anyway. Here's chapter two in which Harry has an enlighteneing chat with Ron and makes a startling discovery. There'll be one more chapter after this one in Hermione's POV. Anyway, enjoy!

Chapter Two:

Over the next week, Harry became convinced that he was mad. Hermione was on his thoughts constantly and everything she did seemed…sensual. They way she walked, the way her hair caught the light just right and looked like copper, her laugh (Merlin, the laugh. It was like angels singing), even when she ate. Harry couldn't help staring at her in class, imagining what wonders those baggy school robes hid, and often Ron caught him at it. By a horrible, cruel coincidence, it seemed that every time Harry caught one of Voldemorts sexual urges he was looking at Hermione. Thankfully, they weren't an extremely common occurrence.

In time, Harry grew to realize that not only was Hermione a beautiful young woman, she was a great person. She was always nice to people, she was levelheaded and never lost her temper (well, once in third year, but Malfoy had it coming), she seemed so genuinely concerned about Harry, and there were so many other things. Did Harry fancy her? He didn't want to get Voldemort's sexual urges mixed with that. But, no, even when his looks weren't accompanied by those feelings, he still found Hermione very fanciable.

The Saturday evening after his little revelation, Harry was wandering aimlessly through the hallways of Hogwarts, trying to clear his head. Hermione had just walked downstairs from the girls dorm dripping wet from a shower and wearing a tight T-shirt and jeans. The smell of vanilla and cinnamon was so strong he about dragged her right back up those stairs and…well, think of the things you could get up to in a dorm room. (A/N: I know the stairs would do the slide thing, but Harry's not thinking straight.)

Harry stopped next to a bust of Paracelsus and leaned against the wall, clearing his thoughts. He needed to get his homework done, but Hermione always insisted on helping and nothing could guarantee a wandering mind more than the object of your continual fantasies of questionable integrity.

"Knut for your thoughts," said a familiar voice and Harry was jerked out of his thoughts to see Ron standing there, grinning.

"Ron, am I going mad?" Harry asked, not bothering to elaborate.

"Well, you've been avoiding Hermione like that Muggle Plague Ginny heard about in Muggle Studies," Ron said. "Care to tell me what's going on?"

"Ron, I can _not_ stop thinking about her," Harry said, not able to contain it for a moment longer. "She's always on my mind and everything she does makes me want to snog her brains out!"

"When did this happen?" Ron asked, looking amused.

"About a week ago," Harry replied, leaning against a windowsill. "When we were walking back from the library on Friday. I got another flash of Voldemort's mood and he must have been randy as a kneazle or something, 'cause when I open my eyes, Hermione's standing there and I wanna drag her off and snog her."

"I see," Ron said slowly. "Go on."

"Well, then I couldn't stop thinking about her for the rest of the night," Harry went on. "And that night when I was sleeping I had some…_very_ unusual dreams about her."

"Really?" Ron asked, cocking an eyebrow. "What was she doing?"

"Ron, you're not helping," Harry said. "The next morning I was talking to Ginny and she asked me if I'd caught on to the fact that Hermione's a girl and then it all clicked into place. I…I think I fancy Hermione."

It felt strange, yet good, to say it out loud and Harry knew it was right.

"You fancy her?" Ron asked, raising her eyebrow. "It sounds to me like you just want to shag her."

"No!" Harry said. "I mean – I don't know yet, but that's not _all_ I feel for her. I've been thinking about it today. It's not just that; there's the underlying attraction to…Hermione. She's just so…indescribable." He gazed up at the ceiling as thought about her. "She's always so helpful and she really puts all her being into what she does. We were sitting in the library two days ago and she was reading something for an essay in Transfiguration. I heard her sort of gasp really softly and I looked up and saw her eyes light up she started reading and she smiled this cute little smile as she started writing all her facts down. It was so…Hermione. There's no other way to describe it."

"Sounds like love to me," Ron said, grinning.

"Love?" Harry asked. "Ron, I'm fifteen. Isn't that a little too young for love?"

"No," Ron said simply. "My parents knew they were in love fifth year. Mum never stops blabbing about it at every anniversary. Why don't you tell her you're in love with her?"

"What?" Harry asked, his head shooting up. "No way. I'm not telling her anything. And neither are you." Ron looked disappointed and Harry knew that was exactly what was running through his head.

"Why not?" Ron asked. "She might just feel the same way about you. You never know unless you ask."

"And what if she doesn't feel the same way?" Harry asked. "It'll completely ruin five years of friendship."

"Harry, this is Hermione we're talking about," Ron said. "If she doesn't feel the same way, things'll be awkward, yeah, but they'll calm down after a while." He stepped backward to lean against the wall next to the window Harry was now looking out of. "Anyway, love isn't something you can keep bottled—"

"Ron, I'm not in love with Hermione!" Harry said.

"Look me in the eyes and say that," Ron said, a smirk mirroring Ginny's playing across his face. Harry looked into his blue eyes and then looked away. "I knew it. You're head ove—"

He cut himself off as he bumped into something standing up. Harry couldn't see anything there, however. Ron stood staring at the empty space next to him, his brow furrowed.

"What is it?" Harry asked, looking at the same spot. Ron's look changed to one of dawning realization, then shock as he whipped out his hand. He seemed to grasp nothing as he whipped his hand back towards himself and a girl materialized seemingly from nowhere. A girl with bushy brown hair and bright brown eyes that Harry could lose himself in. Hermione stood next to Ron, who was grasping Harry's Invisibility Cloak.

"Hi," she said nervously.

Uh-oh, Hermione knows now. How will she react to this news? Does she feel the same? Seriously, I have no idea, I'm making this up as I go along ;) Just kidding. Stay tuned for the exciting conclusion and some of Hermione's POV on all this in Chapter Three: Insert Nifty Title Here .

Review, please. _I need constructive criticism!_


	3. Chapter 3

Here it is, the final chapter, where our favorite Gryffindors (or my favorite anyway) bring their arduous journey to a close. Will it be a happy ending? Well, I'm not telling you, read the story if you want to know. Oh, and thanks to my reviewers for their...reviews, you know. Anyway, read on.

Oh, wait, just tobe safe, I'll readress the disclaimer. ahem. All characters and other stuff mentioned belong to Mrs. Joanne Rowling. Not me... so, please don't sue, Mrs. Rowling,I'm your biggest fan. Is tackled by all people who claim to be bigger fans

Chapter Three: Hermione Wakes Up

"Did you have to spy on us?"

"Well, I was worried about Harry, and neither of you were speaking to me, so I took matters into my own hands."

"You realize he's probably gonna avoid you forever, now."

"Don't be ridiculous, Ronald, he would never to that."

There was a moment of silence, then Ron voiced the question that was bugging the both of them.

"D'you feel the same way?"

Hermione fell silent. In truth, she wasn't sure. She had always looked at Harry as her best friend, maybe even closer than that. He was attractive, sure, especially in those Quidditch robes, and she did find him rather charming when he let his guard down and was just himself. But Harry had to go use the L word. Did she love him back? Hermione shook herself mentally. She remembered Harry's jumpiness of the past week and how he could never seem to meet her eyes. She giggled to herself at how very…cute he could be sometimes. She had certainly been disappointed at the lack of contact between them this week. Ron was good company, but she missed being able to have a conversation that didn't revolve around Quidditch and Mrs. Weasley's cooking, however good it may taste.

"Hermione?" Ron's voice said. "We're at the portrait hole."

"Oh," Hermione said, jerking out of her thoughts. "Thanks."

"Think about it," Ron said. "You guys are so good for each other."

Hermione sighed. When did Ron get so deep? She was about to ask when Angelina Johnson came out of nowhere, dragging Ron off and screaming something about emergency Qudditch practice.

"And where in Merlin's name is Ginny!" she screamed at him as they climbed through the portrait hole. "Let's find her!"

Hermione sighed and laughed at the lengths some people would go to win a simple game and went to get her bag. She walked up to the fifth year girls' dorms and grabbed her bag, then stopped on her way to the door.

"It's safe to come out, Ginny," she said to the seemingly empty room. Ginny opened the curtains to Lavender Brown's four poster and climbed out looking sheepish.

"What gave me away?" she asked, walking up next to Hermione.

Hermione merely pointed at Crookshanks, who had been pawing at the bed. "Crookshanks is in love with you."

Ginny giggled and stooped to scratch the cat behind the ears. "Clever little kitty. So, where've you been? You're usually knitting elf hats right about now."

"Oh," Hermione said. "I'll explain in the common room. Let's go."

…

"He's in love with you?" Ginny asked bewilderedly. "He actually used the word 'love'?"

"He didn't use it per se," Hermione said. "But all signs pointed to love."

"Wow," Ginny said. "What are you gonna tell him? Do you feel the same way?"

"I don't know," Hermione said. "This is all pretty sudden. I mean, two weeks ago he was acting just fine and suddenly he's in love with me."

"It happens like that sometimes," Ginny said. "But I think he's been in love for a while and he just realized it. I mean, you guys are pretty close."

"How so?" Hermione asked.

"Ron told me about your hug when he had just gotten to Grimmauld Place," Ginny said, dropping her voice slightly. "From what he said, he practically had to drag you off of him. You're always the loudest person cheering for him in the stands at Quidditch."

"So," Hermione said, confused, "people cheer for their friends and hug them after being away for a while."

"Do you cheer that loud for Ron?" Ginny asked, smirking again. Her friends could be so clueless sometimes. "Did you hug Ron when you first saw him?"

"Well," Hermione said, pausing. "Harry had been gone longer, and…he'd been through a big ordeal with the dementors—"

"How did you react when you'd first heard about that, anyway?" Ginny asked, a laugh in her voice as she remembered Hermione's reaction last August.

**Flashback**

"Dementors?" Hermione screamed. "Attacked Harry? My Harry?"

"Hermione, calm down," Mrs. Weasley said, though she was rather pale herself. "He's just fine, but there's going to be a hearing—"

"So they didn't…suck out his soul or anything?" Hermione said, trembling slightly.

"Hermione," George said. "Think about it. If they'd sucked out his soul, would they really summon him to a hearing?"

"A real easy defendant, that would be," Fred said. "Drool out of the left side of your mouth for guilty—"

"—right for not guilty," George finished. "You have the right to remain silent—"

"—not that there's much of a choice," Fred completed.

"Fred! George!" Mrs. Weasly said as Ginny, Ron, Fred, and George all erupted in laughter. "That's not funny. Harry will be going to a hearing to determine whether or not he'll be…expelled."

"Expelled?" Hermione repeated worriedly. She sat in silence for a minute before getting up quickly and knocking her chair over.

"Oi!" Ron said, picking the chair up off of his aching foot. "Where're you going?"

"I'm going to read some law books," Hermione said quickly. "There's gotta be something about using magic in life-threatening situations."

With that she rushed off and didn't return from the Black Manor's library for eight hours.

**End Flashback**

"I was worried about Harry," Hermione said unconvincingly. "We all were."

"Hermione," Ginny said patiently, not unlike the tone Hermione used when explaining girls to Harry, "Fred, George, Ron, and I were _worried_ about Harry. _You_ were terrified."

Hermione merely stayed silent for a moment. "Yeah, I'll admit, I…overreacted—"

"You used the exact words 'my Harry', Hermione," Ginny said. "I remember because it shocked the hell out of me."

"But…" Hermione drifted off. "Oh, Merlin, I'm in love with him."

"Finally," Ginny said. "God, for the brightest witch to ever grace Hogwarts you can be dumb sometimes."

"Hey!" Hermione said indignantly. "Love is different."

"All right, I'll give you that," Ginny said, smiling. "But it still took you long enough. You gonna tell him?"

"I don't know," Hermione said.

"What?" Ginny exclaimed, attracting stares from much of the common room. She dropped her voice. "Hermione, you're in love with him and he's in love with you. How simpler could it get?"

"Well, how can he possibly really see anything in me?" Hermione said. "Maybe it is just Voldemort putting ideas in his head."

Ginny winced at the name, but ignored it. "Hermione, listen to me." Hermione looked at her. "Love is not gonna announce itself to you. You're gonna have to find it and trust it's the real thing. If you believe, truly believe, that Harry is in love with you, go talk to him. If not, then don't. It's that simple. And lastly, what does You-Know-Who know about love? How can he give Harry false ideas about love if he himself clearly can't feel it? Also, don't doubt your eligibility. You're an attractive girl and Harry isn't shallow enough not to notice the head on your shoulders."

Hermione blushed at this. "You'd never catch Ron talking to Harry like this," she said, giggling.

"Well, that's because he's homophobic," Ginny laughed. "I'm not afraid to tell a girl what she's got going for her."

Suddenly, the portrait hole burst open and Angelina appeared, still dragging a frightened looking Ron.

"Ginny! Quidditch!" she said, grabbing Ginny by the arm. "Now!"

"Bye!" Ginny called as she was dragged off. "Good luck!"

Hermione was left pondering all that Ginny had told her. The more she thought about it, the more plausible a relationship with Harry seemed. But what if…?

Hermione cut her thoughts off. Stop speculating, grit your teeth and do it. She turned just in time to see a mop of raven hair going through the portrait hole. No time like the present.

…

(A/N Oh, the suspense is killing me)

"Harry!" Hermione called, running after him. Harry ignored her, quickening his pace. "Don't you dare ignore me, Harry James Potter!"

Harry seemed to visibly slump and stopped. Hermione smiled. The middle name always got him. She walked up and stopped in front of him, suddenly lost for words.

"Um," she said, buying time. "I wanted to apologize for spying on you like that. And borrowing your cloak without permission—"

"Stealing, you mean—"

"_Borrowing_," Hermione said, emphasizing the word. "I gave it back. Well, sort of. You whipped it out of Ron's hand and ran off."

"Yeah, well…" Harry couldn't seem to think of a reason to explain his departure so he just kept walking.

"Look, Harry," Hermione said, following him and deciding to get to the point. "I just wanted to know if you meant all of that stuff you said."

"Depends," Harry said. "How much did you hear?"

"I came in right about when you said 'randy as a kneazle," Hermione said, giggling in spite of herself. Harry let a reluctant smile grace his features.

"Yeah, I meant it," Harry said after a pause. "I won't lie to you, Hermione. I…I love you."

Hermione blinked and suddenly felt happier than she'd ever felt before. Hearing the actual words from Harry seemed to vanish all doubts about her own feelings. "Oh, Harry," she said, throwing her arms around him. "I love you to."

Harry simply stood there, shocked for a moment, before wrapping his arms around Hermione and reveling the very feel of her.Hermione drew away from him slightly after a moment and looked up at him, a lone tear running down her cheek. Harry wiped it away.

"Tears of joy?" he asked.

"Yeah," Hermione said, nodding. Hermione looked into those vividly green eyes of his. Merlin, James Potter was a lucky man to be able to look at those eyes all the time.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, his face pinking slightly. "I would really like to kiss you right now."

Hermione smiled at how nervous he was. "I'd like that, Harry."

Slowly, she snaked her arms around his neck and pulled him down as she stood on her toes to meet him. Her heart was pounding as she met his lips with hers. The kiss was soft and tentative at first, but it quickly deepened as Harry wrapped his arms around Hermione and pulled her closer, crushing her lips with his. Not to be outdone, Hermione ran her tongue along Harry's lips and Harry gladly granted her access to his mouth. Merlin, he tasted great. After getting to know each other's mouths very well, precious oxygen became a necessity and they broke apart, gasping for air, and rested their foreheads together.

"Wow," Hermione said. "I could definitely get used to that."

"Yeah," Harry said, laughing. "Likewise. So, are we…together?"

"I hope so," Hermione said, smiling and pulling away. "Let's continue this in the common room." She laced her fingers through his and led him back to the common room. They sat on the couch closest to the fire, in each other's arms, enjoying the warmth of the fire and taking advantage of the virtually empty common room to snog each other senseless.

…

"I don't care who the Captain is next year," Ron said as he and Ginny trudged through the common room shortly past midnight. "As long as it's not Angelina sodding Johnson."

"Ditto," Ginny said weakly, then spotted movement by the fire. She looked over and grinned, giggling.

"What?" Ron asked. Ginny merely pointed to one of the couches by the fire and Ron followed her finger, a grin splitting his face as well. Harry and Hermione were sleeping on the couch, Hermione's head pillowed on Harry's chest, rising and falling as he breathed. Ron shook his head, mouthing the word "mental" and walked up to his dorm. Still beaming, Ginny walked over and picked up a blanket from the floor and draped it over them. As she walked away, she heard Hermione's soft voice say, "Thanks, Ginny.

Ginny grinned. It took a while, but at least everyone would know she, Ginevra Molly Weasley, was at least partially responsible for Hogwarts's most memorable power couple.

Well, like it? Intensely dislike? Either way let me know through, what else, reviews. If I'm well recieved, I'll get started on an AU Book 2 fic, but more on that later. See ya!


	4. Epilogue

Hello! I got a review from wannabeacow92 asking about Voldy's role in this and whether or not his feelings were genuine or a trap. Well, that was such a good question I couldn't leave it unanswered, so I added a little epilogue for your enjoyment! Enjoy it, damn it!

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Meanwhile, miles away in the village of Little Hangleton, a desolate house stood atop of a hill. Inside this house, the most evil wizard of modern time was lying in a grand bed next to Bellatrix Lestrange. Both were breathing heavily.

"Bellatrix, that was fantastic as ever," Voldemort said in his cold voice. "This past week has been most enlightening."

"I can say the same, my Lord," Bellatrix said, her heavily lidded eyes only half open. "I never knew the Dark Lord could be so great in bed."

"Nor did I know that finding a...release...would help me concentrate on my work," Voldemort said. "And, speaking of which, I must see Rookwood. He's supposed to be reporting in."

Voldemort climbed from the bed and draped a black bathrobe around himself. Slipping into black, bat-shaped slippers, he walked from the room, the slippers squeaking with every step he took.

Bellatrix climbed from the bed as well. She and she alone had taken the Dark Lord's virginity. The thought was both exciting, and very, very sad. She went to the bathroom to take a shower.

-------------------------------------

THE END...?


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